


Rehab

by footballffbarbiex



Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:16:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footballffbarbiex/pseuds/footballffbarbiex
Summary: Based on the Rihanna song.A break up is never easy.





	Rehab

Rehab.

 

_Baby, baby, when we first met_  
I never felt something so strong  
You were like my lover and my best friend  
All wrapped into one, with a ribbon on it 

 

It was everything I wanted and more. It was year 10. And the only time I’d ever been thankful a teacher had put the class in a boy girl seating plan. French too, of all classes. One I’d previously found to be a complete bore, but suddenly, since meeting him, I took more interest in it. I’d ignored him, but felt his stare. He wasn’t used to being ignored. I knew that. I’d seen the way girls were around him. Of course he loved the attention.  
I hadn’t chosen to not give him mine on purpose. I’d been shy around guys and at that point, I didn’t know what to say to them anyway. It was the second lesson that I’d sat next to him, and felt his stare burn into me that I’d looked and acknowledged him. I’d given him a small smile, nervously pushed the hair from my behind my ear and hid my face from him. And that’s when it happened. I felt his finger on me. The slow rhythm of his taps on my forearm. I could tell he was grinning as he kept tapping, each tap urging me to look back at him.  
After about 15 minutes, I’d sighed, finally looking back at him.  
“Hi” he said with a wide smile.  
“Hello” I replied turning back to my work. I didn’t understand it but I pretended I did. Besides, I wasn’t likely to end up Paris any time soon asking where the supermarket was so I could buy a red apple.  
The tapping continued. Only not for as long. He’d chosen a new tactic. Poking. He poked my shoulder. I’d sighed again and turned back to him, wondering why the hell this guy was taking this much interest in bugging me.  
“I’m Antoine.”  
“I’m aware of this.” He only smiled even more.  
The next lesson he did the same. Every time I looked at him, he would grin and say hi. I’d turn away, and he’d do it again. After the fifth lesson, I found myself laughing when he did this. I guess you could say it had been the perfect ice breaker between us. 

He was in my English, media and history class and I soon found he was slowly making his way around the class. Slowly getting closer to my seat. It seemed a number was too personal, and so he slipped me a piece of paper with his MSN address on it. I’d added him that night. He would have me up until 4am on a school night laughing away at his jokes and his silliness.  
When we started talking more, he eventually swapped numbers, both mobile and landlines. He’d prank call my mobile and I’d ring his landline since we had free calls to all UK landlines. We’d then spend the next three hours talking on the phone. We could have used MSN but hearing his voice was nice. It was around this time I began to realise what this happy feeling was.  
No one at school knew about our friendship outside of the school walls. We didn’t exchange conversation in the school corridors or when we walked past each other in the school yard. No one knew. But I could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke to me. During one of our long phone calls his mum had come home.  
“How long have you been on that phone?” she’d asked, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice. We usually spoke while she was out.  
“Two hours” he’d stuttered, not really knowing how to get out of this.  
“Two hours?!” she’d exclaimed. “Who to?” he’d muttered my name, embarrassed. Embarrassed of who he was talking to, or because he was admitting how long he’d been on the phone to a girl to I wasn’t sure.  
“Invite her round” she said excited.  
“What? NO!” I remember the feeling of hurt and the way my stomach dropped.  
“Too late. The kettle is on. Invite her round Antoine Griezmann or I will.”  
“So, erm, do you want to come round?” his embarrassed question had made me smile. I accepted, and told him I’d be there soon. A more important question was bouncing around my head. What the hell to wear?

I’d gone in jeans and a simple tee shirt. His mum was lovely and I instantly loved her. Antoine excused us and we sat in his front room, me with the mug of tea that his mum had made me.  
“Y’know something Griezmann?” I’d said, looking at his hair after glancing at a photo of a young Antoine.  
“What’s that?” his attention had been still on the TV.  
“You’d look hot with long hair.” He’d looked at me with his eyebrow raised and a crooked smile.  
“Right then.” I’d suddenly felt foolish and we never spoke of it again.

The house visits became more regular. We’d hang out, watching movies, rocking out around his bedroom to music or just talking. He’d always be hugging me and trying to hold my hand. He’d hug me before I’d leave and he’d always hold on that bit longer which made me not want to leave. I’d want to stay there in his arms. Which was ridiculous because we were friends. Friends. And nothing more.  
One night, he was sat on the kitchen side near the back door. I was about to leave and he was hugging me. I slowly pulled away from our hug when I’d felt his lips on the side of my mouth. I’d paused, not knowing what to make of it, but not wanting to move in case he tried it again. We’d just kind of looked at each other but by that point, the moment was gone and my mum was already hammering on her car horn for me to leave. 

Our first kiss was laid on the sofa while watching a horror film. We’d been hugging and I felt the familiar feeling of him staring at me. I’d lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him when it happened. He kissed me. He simply pressed his lips to mine and held them there for a moment to assess my reaction. I felt his smile when I smiled against him and kissed him back. I had to push him away shortly after and rush upstairs as I threw up.  
“That bad huh?” he’d said with a smile when I came back downstairs.  
“The butterflies took over. I’d waited for that for a long time. I was nervous.” 

We were more open at school. People were questioning whether or not we were together. We didn’t hold hands, but we spoke a lot more and hugged an awful lot. In a way it hurt. We’d been doing this for several months and he’d made no intention of creating a relationship with him. What was I to him? My answer came one night in a text. “I like you more than I should. I think we should talk. Come to mine about 8ish? x” the text scared me. Antoine was never open about his feelings. Not about things he cared about anyway. Was he calling everything off? 

I’d arrived at his house at 8 but stood nervously outside it for a while trying to calm myself down. My hands were shaking and I kept laughing nervously. I finally found the courage to knock on his door.  
He said nothing, just took my hand and led me upstairs. He sat me on his bed while he’d nervously paced the room, occasionally running his hands through his curls. I laughed inside. The very same curls I’d said he’d look hot with. The ones he’d scoffed at when I suggested it. The very curls he got complimented on by all the girls.  
“You know that question you want me to ask?” I’d felt my heart speed up, hammering so hard against my rib cage I feared it would smash through and land in a mess at his feet. I did nothing but nod. “I’m trying to think how to word it.” Puddle Of Mud “Control” was playing in the background and the smell of Diesel aftershave filled my nostrils. I’d sat for what felt like forever, not daring to move, before he spoke again. “I love you. Will you be my girlfriend” the butterflies had taken over not just my stomach but my entire body only this time my stomach behaved itself. It was a double whammy. He loved me. And wanted me to be his girlfriend. I’d thrown myself from the bed and into his arms, covering his face with kisses while saying “yes” over and over.  
The grin had spread across my face that quick and for that long that my face hurt for an hour after I left his. 

Our relationship had been perfect. My grades had slipped towards the end of school but I didn’t care. I had Antoine. The problems started when he got accepted into college.

_And all of a sudden, when you left_  
I didn't know how to follow, it's like a shot  
That spun me around and now my heart left  
I feel so empty and hollow 

_And I'll never give myself to another, the way I gave it to you_  
Don't even recognize the ways you hit me, do you?  
It's gonna take a miracle to bring me back  
And you're the one to blame 

 

I’d like to say the pain hit me like a tonne of bricks. But it didn’t. I was numb. I could feel the pain tingling around the edges of where I knew I should be, but I could barely feel it. I’d known even then, that first day, that when the pain did come. It’d cripple me. And then it hit. A tonne of bricks was nothing compared to how I felt. I felt like I’d been ripped apart and then stuck back together messily with plasters. His words were still going through my mind, if not every minute of the day, then every hour. The impact of the words forced what food I was able to eat from my stomach, and left me feeling weak and pathetic.  
“I love you. But I’m not in love with you anymore.” BAM. Bricks falling on me. “I don’t like not being able to flirt with other girls in case they might like me or in case I might like them” BAM. Train ploughing into me. “I don’t just want to have sex with you” That was the final nail in my coffin. “I’ve cheated on you. I’m sorry.”  
I dropped from 8 stone 12 to 7 stone 4 in the space of two weeks. I couldn’t attend college because I had to leave the room every half an hour in fits of tears and I never had the energy due to not eating. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, because I did. Hell I was starving, literally, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. My stomach turned and threatened to force my stomach acid up if I even considered it.  
I forced myself to stay away from the computer. I knew I’d be on his facebook page, torturing myself by looking at the girls he was talking to or even worse. Seeing he was now in a relationship with one of them. Staying away from the computer full stop was the easiest option. Which was fine by me, since it was a desktop and I spent most of my time in bed.

I tried to move on. I tried to forget about him. But half of my films reminded me of when I sat watching them with him. I couldn’t have my iTunes on, because there were too many songs on there which either reminded me of him or he loved that band, that artist or that song. The occasional times I’d drag myself out of the house, I’d smell someone walk past wearing Diesel and I’d have to throw up. The pain hitting me again and the pain crippling me again.  
He didn’t want me.  
Even smiling made me feel bad. I felt I was cheating myself. I didn’t deserve to be happy. 

 

_And now I feel like, oh, you're the reason why I'm thinking_  
I don't wanna smoke all these cigarettes no more  
I guess this is what I get for wishful thinking  
I should've never let you into my door 

_Next time you wanna go on and leave_  
I should just let you go on and do it  
It's not amusing like I believe 

_It's like I checked into rehab_  
Baby, you're my disease  
It's like I checked into rehab  
Baby, you're my disease 

 

I’d gone off the rails before I’d really realised what I’d done. I was spending every possible moment out of the house, trying to make myself believe I didn’t miss him. Didn’t NEED him. my pain soon turned to anger; something I could deal with a lot better than sitting around crying. I hated myself for even doing that and acting so damned pathetic. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed a guy to make me feel that low, that self worthless. So instead I surrounded myself with my friends and their friends. Some of which, really wasn’t good for me but I didn’t care. They were new and lead new exciting lives compared to how mine had been and I wanted to know more. Wanted to live that life instead of the one I had been doing. I needed that distraction.  
I began to smoke, I started drinking. No cider for me. Vodka. Straight from the bottle. The cigarettes made me choke and the straight vodka made my throat burn but after a while I didn’t feel it. Next came the weed, the occasional pills. Anything that took me from the life I was supposedly living. 

 

_Damn, ain't it crazy when your love slams?_  
You'll do anything for the one you love  
'Cause anytime that you needed me, I'd be there  
It's like you were my favourite drug 

_The only problem is that you was using me_  
In a different way that I was using you  
But now that I know, it's not meant to be  
You gotta go, I gotta win myself over you 

 

After a while, I realised what I was doing. I wasn’t as angry as I was making myself out to be. I was still hurting. I’d just taken a different route and dressed it up slightly. But underneath it all, it all came down to the same thing. I was still hurting. I still loved him. And no amount of alcohol, cigarettes or sex with the different guys that showed interest or any sign of love would change that.  
It was 6 months later and I was a completely different person. A person I didn’t like or recognise but I’d become that used to living this new life that I didn’t know how to break it. I knew what I needed to do. I needed to sit down and think about everything. Think about everything from the beginning, the good and the bad. Remember the good memories rather than push them away while thinking “fuck you bastard.” I had to remember them. I had to in order to try and move on. I needed to cry, I needed to let it all out. And only when I had accepted everything that had happened could I learn to move on. 

The worst part of it all, was not only had I lost my first love, but I’d lost my best friend. The one person who knew how to make me smile even in my darkest mood. Knew what mood I was in by how I said hello in a text. The one whose simple hugs made me smile more than anyone else’s’ and the one person who the minute I heard his voice, I knew everything was going to be okay.  
It hurt to know I’d lost him. 

I couldn’t even begin to tell you how it felt when I heard “And the one to watch in this match is Antoine Griezmann,” echo through my TV whilst watching the world cup. It was then I knew I’d truly lost him.


End file.
